


Tombé

by Jen_Kollic



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Human, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jen_Kollic/pseuds/Jen_Kollic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Human AU. Pearl is a professional ballet dancer preparing for the lead role in 'Giselle' when she is attacked by an unknown assailant, leaving her crippled. With her career in ruins, she has to adjust to life as a broken ballerina with the help of the stagehand who saved her life. Warnings for blood and violence in the first chapter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU where everyone is human, taking place in a coastal city on the eastern side of the USA. And it will eventually be Pearlmethyst. It was partly inspired by crystal-gay's idea for a ballet AU on Tumblr, and partly by 'Steven the Sword Fighter'.

**Tombé – "To fall"**  
 _\- ballet terminology ****  
_

 

It was late on a cold November night and the theatre was all but deserted. It had been a rehearsal night rather than a performance night so there were no lingering patrons; the bar was closed and the only people left in the building were a few cleaning staff, one of the stage hands who had just finished painting one of the set pieces for the ballet opening next week, and a solitary ballerina. The rest of the ballet company had gone home nearly an hour ago, but Pearl had stayed behind to work on her solo routines. Since she had the lead role in the upcoming show the dancer was determined that her performance would be nothing less than perfect.

Slumping down onto a bench in the changing rooms, Pearl unlaced her pointe shoes and gingerly peeled them away from her feet. She'd only been wearing them for a month and they weren't fully broken in yet, but at least her toes weren't bleeding any more. Just as well, since there was less than a week until opening night. Flexing her feet gratefully, Pearl quickly changed out of her practice clothes and threw them in her bag, pulling on jeans and a thick sweater and then putting on her winter boots. They were heavy and thick-soled, but still felt wonderful against her feet after hours in pointe shoes.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Pearl didn't bother to button her coat as she headed down the steps from the changing rooms to the stage door. She'd seen the snow through the large skylights in the auditorium, but it would only take a moment to get to her car. For once she'd actually managed to snag the spot nearest the stage door - probably because she'd been at the theatre since 7am. Passing one of the stage hands on the stairwell - the one with the untidy mane of bleached hair who treated every request like an outrageous demand - Pearl muttered a polite greeting but barely paid her any attention. All she wanted now was to get home, sink into a hot bath to soak her aching muscles, then collapse into bed. She'd need to be back at 7am tomorrow too - she'd missed a couple of steps during rehearsal and that would never do. The thought of making mistakes like that in front of an audience made Pearl shudder; it was bad enough making them in front of her fellow dancers.

Reaching the stage door, Pearl pushed the release bar and stepped outside. The sudden rush of cold was like plunging into an icy bath, and the dancer immediately regretted not fastening her coat. Wrapping her arms around herself as she shivered, Pearl carefully stepped into the alley, closing the stage door behind her. The snow wasn't deep on the ground yet; the alley was shielded by the buildings on either side, but slipping on a patch of ice would be disastrous. With opening night next week, a twisted ankle would be a catastrophe. Feeling her phone vibrate, Pearl took it from her purse and saw that she had a new message from Rose. The timestamp on it was from several hours ago which wasn't surprising since she never got a signal in the changing rooms, but before she could open it she heard movement behind her.

"Pearl." The voice was artificially deep and gruff, like someone trying to put on a giant's voice for a child's story. Looking round towards the back of the alley, Pearl frowned as she saw nothing but shadows among the dumpsters. Then one of the shadows moved towards her lightning fast - thin black-clad arms wrapping around her torso like snakes as a hand covered her mouth to muffle her cry of shock. Her assailant was clad all in black - black turtleneck, black pants, black gloves, black shoes and a featureless black head covering, a stick figure come to life. As the initial shock wore off, Pearl started to struggle wildly, stamping down on the figure's toes with the heel of her boot and hearing them hiss with pain. As their grip slackened, Pearl managed to wriggle free of the arm covering her mouth and drew in a deep breath to scream for help.

Then something hit her in the back, hard, and the only sound Pearl could make was an agonised gasp. The next thing she knew she was lying on the wet concrete ground, her legs either numb or burning with pins and needles as warmth spread across her back from where she'd been hit. It felt as if there was a heavy, cold weight there holding her down. Pearl tried to struggle back to her feet but something was wrong; one of her legs only flopped uselessly while the other didn't move at all. Her attacker was crouched over her - Pearl could hear their breath hissing through their teeth in fury. No, not fury. Something else. They were enjoying this. Her phone was still in her hand, but just as she realised that, her assailant noticed it too and snatched it from her grasp.

"Just die," the black-clad figure hissed. Their voice was still harsh and low, yet it seemed almost familiar. A nylon glove covered her mouth - wet with melted snow and sticky with something warm and coppery - then the weight on her back became a sear of flame as something _twisted_ inside of her, making a wet sound like a watermelon splitting. The glove silenced her scream of pain, but then the stage door swung violently open to crash against the theatre wall.

"What the FUCK?" Even though Pearl's consciousness was starting to fade, at least that voice was definitely familiar.

**o.o.o.o.o**

In the staff cloakroom Amethyst was pulling on her coat and fastening the buttons over her scarf. She felt warmer immediately, almost uncomfortably so, but since it was a half-hour walk back to her apartment she'd be glad of it once she was outside. Her old coat had been battered and worn and let in water, but this one was waterproof and lined with wool; it had been a present from Rose after Amethyst had turned up to babysit Steven last winter soaked to the skin. She'd argued at the time, said she didn't need it, but given the snowfall outside Amethyst was glad that Rose hadn't listened to her objections.

Hiking three trash bags from the changing rooms which she'd offered to collect for the cleaning staff over one shoulder, Amethyst headed out to the stairs where she was almost knocked flat by Pearl, the skinny ballerina who was always complaining about the lights. The dancer muttered something that might have been an apology but didn't stop, and Amethyst pulled a face at her retreating back. Now she'd have to go and check the bins in the changing rooms again. It would be just like that snooty pain in the ass to throw something in one of them after Amethyst had emptied them.

Leaving the other bags on the stairwell, Amethyst went up the stairs to the next floor and headed into the women's changing rooms. The lights were still on, but since they went on motion-sensing timers after 8pm she couldn't blame Pearl for leaving them on, they'd automatically switch off after 15 minutes of inactivity. Amethyst's footsteps echoed hollowly through the empty rooms as she checked the trash cans, her movements reflected by the mirrors on the opposite wall. She wasn't sure whether to be satisfied or disappointed when she found that they were all still empty. Maybe ballerinas weren't so inconsiderate after all.

Going back out to the stairwell, Amethyst retrieved the trash bags and continued down the stairs. Reaching the safety door at the bottom, Amethyst delivered an expert kick to the release bar which threw it open. Stepping outside, she caught the door as it bounced off the wall and swung back towards her, slammed it shut, then turned towards the dumpsters… and froze.

"What the FUCK?"

Pearl was slumped on the ground at the back of the alley with a dark shadow crouching over her and a scarlet stain spreading across her back. Amethyst blinked, and the shadow became a figure dressed all in black like a ninja. Or like Amethyst herself when she had to move scenery on stage during a show, only in Amethyst's case she was a much shorter and chubbier ninja. Pearl's assailant seemed just as surprised to see her and for a few seconds they could only stare at each other. At least Amethyst thought the shadowy figure was staring at her - it was hard to tell through the black lycra covering their face.

Then - with a horrible wet sound - the spell was broken as Pearl gasped out a cry, the figure's arm jerking back to reveal a knife in its fist, the blade gleaming redly as it slashed the weapon through the air threateningly. In response Amethyst dropped the trash bags, but instead of running away she lunged at the attacker in a football tackle - seizing them around their thin waist and bearing them to the ground as a line of fire lanced across her shoulder blade.

Ignoring the pain, Amethyst raised a fist and slammed it into the figure's concealed face, missing their nose as they tried to twist away but cracking solidly into their jaw instead. Their stifled hiss of pain sounded distinctly feminine but before Amethyst could wonder about that, agony exploded in her side. Pearl's attacker had tried to plunge their knife into her but Amethyst's punch had thrown them off; instead the blade had sliced a deep gash across the girl's side just above her hip. Their next swing only hit air as Amethyst disengaged and rolled to the side with surprising speed, hopping back to her feet and driving one steel-toed boot into the figure's ribs as they tried to rise. The resulting sear of pain from her side almost knocked the girl over; Amethyst only managed to stay upright by staggering back to lean against the alley wall.

In the meantime Pearl's attacker had gotten to their feet, but to Amethyst's surprise they didn't seem keen to continue the fight despite being armed - their breath whistling through their teeth in pained pants as they clasped their bruised ribs with their free hand. Their head twisted to the side, looking down towards Pearl, and Amethyst automatically followed their gaze to see the dancer lying motionless on the ground with what looked like an oily black pool spreading around her. Blood. At the sound of movement Amethyst's head snapped back towards the figure only to see them turn tail and run without a backwards glance.

"You better run!" Amethyst yelled after them with impotent fury. "Coward!" Pushing herself away from the wall with a wince, the girl limped over to the fallen dancer and knelt beside her, uttering a string of curses as the slash across her side blazed with pain. "Pearl? C'mon, you're not dead," Amethyst said with the desperate hope it was true. Sure, the dancer was a pain in the ass, but Amethyst had never wished harm on her. Or at least not this much harm. Glancing towards the theatre door, Amethyst cursed again. It would have locked behind her and she had no key. She could hammer on it with her fists, or run round to the main entrance - also locked by this time - and hammer on that but the chances of the cleaners hearing her were remote at best. Besides, what would they even do? Fumbling her phone out of her coat pocket - leaving smears of blood across the touchscreen - Amethyst dialed 911 and continued to curse.

Pearl had barely been aware of the fight between Amethyst and her attacker, she'd felt a sudden sear of pain as the knife was wrenched from her back but everything after that was a jumble of sounds and movement. Her eyes fluttered shut as warmth pulsed out of her back, shuddering against the cold ground and wishing that she'd fastened her coat after all. The next thing she knew, Amethyst was crouched beside her having a panicked conversation with someone but she couldn't make out the words. There was a sudden flurry of movement, then pressure on her back which made her flinch as something throbbed in protest then went numb as something soft and warm was laid over her. Pearl wished it was under her instead; the cold tarmac seemed to be draining what little heat she had that wasn't already leaking out of her spine.

Still cursing, Amethyst kept both hands pressed hard against the wound in the slender dancer's back. The blood trickling down her arm from the deep gash across her shoulder tickled, but she was more concerned about the blood that was soaking her hands and still steaming gently in the frigid air. She tried not to think about how the frozen roads would slow the ambulance down; of course this had to happen during the first cold snap of the season. The snow was getting heavier, and even though the alley was somewhat sheltered there was still a light dusting of flakes across Amethyst's hair and shoulders.

"Just freaking great…" the girl muttered. There was no response from Pearl, which sent a jolt of panic through her; the 911 dispatcher had said to try to control the bleeding, to try to keep her warm, and to try to keep her awake and talking. "Pearl! You still with me?" Forgetting herself for a moment Amethyst was about to shake the tall woman, but the dispatcher had also told her in no uncertain terms that she should absolutely not try to move her. "Crap, answer me dammit!"

Pushing one hand down hard against her wadded scarf that she'd pressed against the knife wound in the dancer's back – feeling the blood-soaked fabric squelch horribly between her fingers as she did – Amethyst lifted one hand to lightly slap the side of Pearl's head. As the woman was lying prone on the wet tarmac, it was hard to get at her face. She was still alive - Amethyst could feel her chest heaving rapidly - but it seemed like breathing was becoming more of an effort for her. "Pearl!"

To Amethyst's great relief, there was a faint groan from the slender woman. Relief that soon vanished as Pearl tried to move, her hands scrabbling weakly through bloody slush. It didn't escape the short girl's notice that only one of the dancer's long legs moved – the one on the same side as the knife wound remained motionless.

"Woah! Don't move!" Amethyst said urgently, pressing her free hand against one of Pearl's shoulders. She could feel blood welling between the fingers of the other; it had soaked right through the thick coat that she'd thrown over the dancer to try and keep her warm as well as the makeshift dressing beneath. Amethyst hoped that Rose wouldn't be too annoyed at that. "Just keep still, there's an ambulance on its way."

Pearl's head slumped to one side, one blue eye looking hazily up at the shorter girl. "…did I fall?" she asked, her words slurring as if the dancer had just woken from a deep sleep. To Amethyst's surprise she looked more bewildered than anything else, as if she genuinely didn't remember how she'd ended up there. Although Amethyst was tempted to answer with 'no you idiot, I came out here to take out the trash while you were getting stabbed', she guessed that would be counterproductive.

"Uhhhh… yes," she lied instead. "But it's okay, there's an ambulance coming, you'll be fine," she added, forcing brittle brightness into her voice. "Just keep talking to me, okay?" Amethyst felt the dancer's body shudder, and was about to scream for help in the dim hope that someone would hear when Pearl spoke again.

"…'s cold…" the dancer mumbled, her forehead creased in bemusement. Her nose twitched as a snowflake landed on it. "…tired… rehearsal t'morrow… gotta go home n' sleep…" Her eyelids fluttered and closed, but opened again as Amethyst shook her shoulder. "Nnnnno, go 'way…"

"You can't go to sleep yet!" Amethyst's tone was somewhere between insistent and pleading. "You need to stay awake. Why don't you…" She fell silent for a moment, desperately wondering what she could make the dancer talk about. Obviously she wouldn't be interested in last night's wrestling cage match. Then it hit her. "Why don't you tell me about what you're rehearsing? Is it that thing with the birds and stuff? You ballet folks like that one, don't you?"

To Amethyst's relief that did seem to get Pearl's attention, the slender woman frowning and raising her head slightly as the words registered. "Birds? What… no… Swan Lake was las' season… there's other ballets you know…"

"Okay, what's this one about?" Amethyst asked, her head jerking up as she heard distant sirens. Her breath hissed between her teeth in frustration as she realised it was police sirens, not ambulance sirens, and worse still the sound was fading. "Besides dancing. Does it even have a story?"

Pearl made a faint noise that might once have been a snort in response. "…'course it does… Giselle… 's famous… how can you work in a theatre and not…" Her words broke off as her face twisted in pain, her breath wheezing in her chest as she coughed and gasped. "…hurts…"

"It's okay, the ambulance will be here soon." For Pearl's sake, Amethyst hoped she was right; she could no longer keep the edge of panic out of her voice. The dancer was clearly getting weaker, her head dropping back to the wet ground. The blood pooled around them was no longer steaming; instead it gleamed wetly as snowflakes skated delicately across its surface with as much grace as Pearl herself. "Hey!" As the dancer's eyes flickered shut, Amethyst slapped her as hard as she could at the awkward angle. Her wounded shoulder throbbed in protest and she was starting to feel lightheaded herself. Hell, it would be just freaking typical if she passed out on top of the other woman and they both died here.

Leaning forward to make sure that Pearl was still breathing - she could no longer feel the movement of her ribs beneath the coat – Amethyst yelped as a searing bolt of pain lanced through her from the slash across her side. She'd almost forgotten that Pearl's assailant had caught her there too, but now it felt like it was freshly inflicted. Amethyst's hand jerked back instinctively towards the wound, but instead she forced herself to slap the dancer again, leaving trails of snowmelt and blood across her pale skin.

The second blow had more effect; Pearl's head twitched backwards as she moaned softly. Her eyes half-opened, glazed and vacant at first before focusing blearily on the girl crouched over her. With a half-hysterical laugh, Amethyst slid her hand under the dancer's chin to tilt her head towards her. "Keep looking at me," she ordered, hazel eyes fixed on Pearl's blue ones. "And tell me more about this Giselle thing; you're the boss ballerina aren't you?"

"…ngh… not boss…" Even though she was only semiconscious Pearl still sounded indignant. "Prima ball'rina. Don't you… pay 'ttention… to anything in theatre?"

"Hey, I just set the stage," Amethyst retorted, giving the dancer's head a slight shake as her gaze started to drift again. "Look at me dammit! What's this dumbass ballet about? You can't be much of a prima ballerina if you don't know."

For a moment Amethyst's heart sank as Pearl's eyes closed again, but then the dancer swallowed painfully, her breath rasping in her chest as she spoke. "…'s about… a girl…" Her voice was barely a whisper, paper-thin. "Giselle. Her name. Lead role. Me. And…" The words faded into a whimper as Pearl shuddered in pain, then her eyes opened to look blearily up at the other woman. "She falls in love… with a noble… doesn't know he's a noble…"

"Why the hell not?" Amethyst asked. "That's pretty dumb, if he's a noble isn't he all fancy and shit?"

Despite the pain she was in, Pearl still managed a look of indignant contempt. "He's disguised… doesn't want to be recognised… supposed to be getting married to a princess."

"Jeez. What a dick." To Amethyst's surprise, Pearl didn't object to that description. For a moment it actually looked like the dancer was smiling at her less-than-tactful response.

"…yeah… he kind of is," the dancer admitted with a feeble chuckle. "But… another man loves Giselle… exposes the noble… she dies. Broken heart."

It might have been Amethyst's imagination, but this time she was sure she heard ambulance sirens. "Well that's lame," she commented. "Dying of a broken heart is dumb. Sounds like a pretty short ballet."

Pearl's eyes had closed, but the dancer shook her head slightly. "Jus' the firs' act… there's ghosts… Wilis… come back to haunt men… kill them…" Her voice was growing fainter but this time Amethyst didn't notice, focusing on the sound of the sirens that were definitely getting closer. "…there's a ghost queen… Myrtha… Honoria got the part… wanted the lead… but I got it… supposed to be practicing… can't jus' lie here"

Amethyst's attention immediately snapped back to Pearl as she felt the slender woman move beneath her hands. It looked as if she was trying to get up, but she barely had the strength to move her arms, and now both of her legs were motionless. "Keep still," the girl told her, though the relief in her voice was unmistakable now that she was sure help was close. "Just hold on a little bit longer, okay?"

"…c- can't fff-feel… legs…" Pearl moaned softly, barely able to form the words. Her body spasmed once, then went still. "…need to… practice… opening night…" Whatever else the dancer might have said was drowned out by the sirens, blue light washing back and forth across the backstage alley as an ambulance drew up beside it.

Moving aside for the paramedics, Amethyst slumped back against the wall of the theatre. She grunted softly as she felt flakes of frost bite into the back of her neck, clasping her wounded shoulder with one hand, the other pressed to her side. She could hear the paramedics talking, but her mind was growing hazy now and she could only make out snatches of what they were saying. Something about spinal trauma and a blackboard. Maybe backboard. Whatever. Amethyst was feeling the cold now but her coat was still wrapped around Pearl. The paramedics hadn't removed it. She hoped that didn't mean that she would have to walk home without it, but then again it would be soaked with blood and melted snow by now. Oh, and torn where she'd been slashed by Pearl's attacker. Damn. It had been such a good one too…

"Miss? Can you hear me?" Amethyst started at the sound of the voice, not even realising that her eyes had closed. One of the paramedics was crouched in front of her, looking at her with concern. "There's another ambulance coming," he told her. "We'll need another EMT to move your friend, and we'll need to take you in too." Although she was tempted to say 'she's not my friend', Amethyst decided that was petty. Instead she let the paramedic examine her injuries, pressing wads of cotton to the gashes in her side and shoulder and bandaging them tightly. Behind him she could see that the other EMT was beside Pearl, holding an IV bag of clear fluid. The dancer was still lying on her stomach and Amethyst couldn't see her face, didn't know if she was still conscious.

"…she gonna… be okay?" she asked groggily, flinching slightly at the sting of a needle in her arm.

"We'll know better once we get her to the hospital," the paramedic replied evasively. "Can you get up? We'll need to get you into an ambulance too, might as well be the one that's here."

"Yeah, sure, no problem…" Unfortunately for Amethyst, she was no longer sure which way was up and only succeeded in pitching forwards onto her face. Deciding to make the best of a bad job, she sank into the welcoming arms of insensibility instead.


	2. Chapter 2

By the next morning, Amethyst had decided that the only thing worse than hospital food was hospital TV. No cable, basic channels only, and not even a remote. And since she was in no way inclined to get up given how she'd nearly popped a stitch in her side last time she was stuck watching soap opera reruns until she was discharged.

Amethyst had vague memories of arriving at the hospital and people fussing around her but by then the painkiller had taken effect and she had found herself watching with hazy interest as her wounds were cleaned and stitched. She couldn't see much of the one in her shoulder, but the one in her side had looked like a wide, bleeding mouth and she remembered thinking it was gross. Then she'd been given more painkillers and the next thing she knew she'd woken up in the hospital room where she was now.

The nurse who'd brought her breakfast – plain cornflakes, weak coffee and toast that tasted like cardboard – hadn't been able to tell her anything about Pearl. She'd said that she'd ask, but that had been several episodes of The Brave and the Bold ago now. Amethyst didn't want to think too hard about what that meant – maybe the nurse just hadn't had time. It didn't mean that the dancer was dead.

"…should've asked for my coat back…" Amethyst muttered to herself, one hand absently moving to scratch at her side. Thankfully this time she remembered to stop when she felt the bandages, but it still itched abominably.

Then there was a knock at the door, and as Amethyst looked up her face split into a wide grin. "Rose!"

"You just can't keep out of trouble, can you Amethyst?" the older woman chuckled as she stepped into the room and moved to sit in the chair beside the bed, setting a grocery bag down beside it. Rose Kalani-Universe was a statuesque Hawaiian woman whose most striking feature was her mane of bright pink curls. At least until she spoke anyway; her voice was rich and musical even when she wasn't singing on stage. Despite her casual tone, Amethyst could see the concern in Rose's warm amber eyes. "How are you feeling?"

"Eh, I'm fine, just got stabbed a couple times. No biggie," the girl replied with a dismissive shrug which she immediately regretted. "Ow! Freakin' stitches… Well, apart from those I'm fine. Those and the food here anyway."

"I thought that might be the case." Lifting the grocery bag, Rose placed it on the bed next to Amethyst. "Steven picked out the donuts. He wanted to come and see you too but I didn't think that would be a good idea right now."

The grocery bag was stuffed with bottles of grape soda, several bags of chips, Amethyst's favourite peanut butter pretzels, and a large box of donuts. "Awesome!" Popping the box open, Amethyst immediately grabbed a maple bacon donut – clearly Steven's choice but she wasn't complaining – and stuffed it into her mouth. "T'anks Rose, 's great!" she mumbled through a mouthful of dough and frosting.

"You're welcome," the older woman replied, but her smile was shadowed with concern. "What on earth happened? I got a call from the theatre this morning saying you and Pearl were attacked when you left work last night. Were you mugged?"

Swallowing the rest of the donut, Amethyst shook her head. "Pearl got attacked," she corrected. "I saved her ass is all. I mean, she is alive, right?" the girl added as an afterthought. Seeing Rose's expression darken, Amethyst's tone lost some of its bravado. "Right?" she repeated nervously.

"She's alive, but she's still in intensive care," Rose's face was uncharacteristically grim. Amethyst immediately decided that she didn't like it, the last traces of her own smile vanishing as the older woman continued. "She lost a lot of blood and she still hasn't stabilised. The doctor told me that if someone hadn't been there to put pressure on the wound, she'd have died."

"There was a lot of blood," Amethyst said softly, wishing that she hadn't eaten that donut so fast now that her stomach was clenching. "They don't know if she'll be okay?"

"They did say she's doing okay for the moment," Rose replied. "She was in surgery a few hours ago, and once she's stabilised then her chances are good. But just now they were saying it's fifty-fifty either way." There was a long moment of silence, which Rose then broke. "You still didn't tell me what happened."

Exhaling heavily, Amethyst leaned back against her pillows and twisted the cap off one of the grape soda bottles. "I only know what I saw," she began, taking a long swig from the bottle. "Pearl was still there when I was getting ready to leave; I was on my way downstairs when she went by so I decided to check the trash cans in the changing rooms before I went in case she'd put anything in them after I'd emptied them." The girl's mouth twisted into a wry grin as she continued. "I was totally going to bitch her out if she had, but they were all empty so I needn't have bothered. If I'd just gone down at the same time as her, she might not have been attacked…"

"You couldn't possibly have known what would happen," Rose said firmly. "It wasn't your fault."

"I guess," Amethyst muttered, her tone unconvinced. "But yeah, there was nothing in the trash cans, which was kinda disappointing, so I went down to the stage door to throw the other ones out while I was leaving. And when I went out into the alley, I saw Pearl lying at the far end. I didn't see the person who'd attacked her at first because they were in all black like a freakin' ninja."

"Or a stage hand," Rose interjected. "I know Pearl's not exactly endeared herself to the stage crew… could it have been one of them?"

Amethyst shook her head in response. "Couldn't see the face because they were wearing one of those pain-in-the-ass hoods without eye holes, you know, the ones you're supposed to be able to see through. But the build was all wrong for one of the crew, all tall and skinny. Yeah, we've got some tall folks, but none of them are thin. Besides," she continued, starting to frown. "There weren't any shows on last night, just rehearsals, so none of the crew would have been in their blacks anyway. Maybe it was just a disguise," Amethyst gave a one-sided shrug. "You wanna jump someone in an alley; you'd wear all black to hide."

"But that only works in the alley," Rose sounded doubtful. "People are going to notice someone wearing all-black on the street. I guess it was late though."

"They can't have run far wearing that hood," Amethyst added. "Or they'd have ended up running into a wall or something, you can barely see through them at the best of times. Anyway, I didn't realise they had a knife until they pulled it out of Pearl." The girl flinched at the memory of the sound it had made. "Then they waved it at me like they were trying to scare me off, so I tackled the jackass instead."

"You could have been killed," Rose said softly, clearly torn between congratulating Amethyst's actions and condemning them. It was hard to tell the girl that she should have been more careful when a more cautious approach might have ended with Pearl bleeding out in the alley.

Amethyst made a dismissive gesture with one hand as she snorted disdainfully. "Eh, they weren't even that tough. They couldn't even stab me properly; the doc who patched me up said that if they'd angled the knife better on the first swing then it would have gone through my ribs instead of bouncing off my shoulder blade." The look on Rose's face at those words suggested that she didn't find that prospect as easy to dismiss as Amethyst did. Feeling a little guilty, the girl cleared her throat awkwardly before continuing. "I gave them a good crack in the face once they were down," and despite herself Amethyst couldn't help her brash grin. "Then they tried to stab me again and sliced my side, so I got up and booted them one in the ribs. That must've knocked the fight outta them because then they got up and ran off, but I stayed with Pearl and called 911."

"And there's nothing you remember that could identify them?" From the tone of Rose's voice it was clear that she already knew the answer. "Nothing at all?"

"Well, they'll have a busted face and bruised ribs," Amethyst replied. "But besides that, no. They were tall and thin like Pearl, but so's like, every ballerina. I never saw their face, but I think they were a woman because of the sound they made when I punched them. Could have been a girly-sounding guy though, I've hit ones that sounded like that before."

"It's strange that they didn't try to rob you," Rose commented, frowning. "Do you remember if they took anything from Pearl?"

"They took her phone, but not her purse," the girl responded. "I know that because the cops mentioned it when they tried to question me last night. I was kinda out of it because of the painkillers but I remember that part because I said it was weird that they'd take Pearl's phone over her purse. You know, because she's still got that ancient cellphone that's not even a smartphone."

"Because she only uses it for phone calls and texts, yes," Rose finished for her. "That is strange. Why take her phone when it's not valuable… unless they wanted to stop her calling 911."

Amethyst's eyes narrowed as she considered the woman's words. "Jeez, when you put it that way it sounds like the asshole that attacked her targeted her specifically. Maybe they really didn't want the ballet to open next week or something."

"No, that can't be it," Rose said, shaking her head. "That's what understudies are for; the ballet will open next week regardless."

Amethyst almost choked on her soda at that. "Seriously? The boss ballerina-"

"Prima ballerina," Rose corrected her.

"Whatever," the girl said dismissively. "Pearl gets stabbed right outside the theatre, but they just replace her? It's not like learning a part with words and junk - she's like, really, really good at dancing. Not that I've watched her," Amethyst added quickly. "Well, I kind of have to watch her when I'm working the lights; anyway, she's the best dancer. Even I can see that."

Rose's response was a humourless chuckle. "Amethyst, how long have you worked in the theatre? You know what they say, 'the show must go on'. Pearl might have had the lead role but there'll be at least five others in the company who've studied it just as hard and would be more than happy to replace her until she…" Realising what she was saying, Rose's expression twisted bitterly. "More than happy to replace her," she amended quietly.

"Man, I never knew ballet was so brutal," Amethyst muttered. Shifting uncomfortably as another thought crossed her mind, Amethyst winced as the movement sent a jolt of pain across her side. "The knife hit her spine, didn't it?" she asked darkly, remembering how the dancer's legs had barely moved while her upper body struggled in the bloody slush.

"It didn't sever it," Rose replied, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. "But… yes, her spine was damaged. That's why Pearl's been in and out of surgery since she got here. The surgeons are trying to repair the damage as much as they can, but they think she'll be partially paralyzed. At least."

Unconsciously hugging the soda bottle to herself at the thought of being paralyzed, Amethyst sighed deeply. "That…that really sucks," she said eventually. "What'll she do now? If she gets better I mean," the girl added quickly, mentally kicking herself as she saw Rose's expression twist in pain. "She totally will get better," she finished lamely.

"I don't know what she'll do," Rose answered, also with a heavy sigh. "But the important thing is that she gets better… and that the police catch the bastard who did this to her."

Amethyst flinched at the curse, she was no stranger to bad language but she had never, never heard Rose swear before now. As if on cue, there was a knock at the door, and a nurse looked in.

"The police are here to see you Ms Ramirez," she said to Amethyst. "They want to take a statement from you about what happened last night; do you feel up to seeing them?"

"Absolutely," Amethyst replied, straightening up in the bed then hissing through gritted teeth in pain as her side throbbed. "If I don't stay awake this time they can just poke me in the shoulder," she joked, though the look on Rose's face suggested that the pink-haired woman found that prospect anything but funny.

"Do you want me to stay?" Rose asked, taking one of Amethyst's hands and squeezing it reassuringly.

"Eh, I'm good," Amethyst replied with bravado she didn't quite feel. "You should go check on Pearl, it's not like they're going to try and pin the attack on me or anything, right?" Although she'd meant the last part to be rhetorical, Amethyst couldn't keep a hint of unease from her voice. Her previous experiences with the police as a 'delinquent' youth hadn't exactly been positive.

"Well, it would have been difficult for you to cut yourself across the shoulder blade," Rose responded comfortingly. "And if you'd been the attacker, why on earth would you have saved Pearl's life?"

"Heh, yeah," The chuckle was somewhat forced, but Amethyst felt less nervous all the same. "Go see Pearl," she added as she saw the indecision on Rose's face. "I'll be fine, honest. And she might have woken up or something."

"Okay then." Getting to her feet, Rose retrieved the bag of snacks from Amethyst's bed before they could spill all over it, placing them on the nightstand within easy reach of the girl's good arm. "I'll be back in an hour or two."

Watching her leave, Amethyst's smile vanished as two police officers stepped into the room in Rose's place. This was going to be tedious.


	3. Chapter 3

Pearl's entire world had become nothing but a numb grey fog between long periods of insensibility. Pins and needles constantly prickled their way up and down her right leg, and she vaguely remembered someone pinching her foot and asking if she could feel it. She wondered - in a hazy, uncertain manner - why they were only pinching one of her feet. There was a throbbing pain in her back but she couldn't feel it very well, and sometimes it went away completely. And when it did, that was when everything went black.

Sometimes there were flashes of images through the darkness, even though she thought her eyes were closed. She saw her reflection in the mirror as she went through her steps – and somewhere distant her leg would jerk slightly in response. Then suddenly the familiar stairwell to the stage door, but now it made her balk, and Pearl knew she didn't want to go down it. But she couldn't remember why, and couldn't stop herself from going down them anyway. It was as if she'd lost control of her legs and someone else was piloting her body. The stairwell seemed to stretch into infinity as she descended - an endless loop of white walls and grey steps as she passed and repassed stagehands on a landing. That was strange, was it the same one?

Resolving to take a better look at them next time she went by, Pearl looked to the side as she reached the landing... and screamed. The stagehand had become an impossibly tall and thin shadow with a featureless black oval for a head, and even though it had no eyes it still somehow saw her and raised its arms threateningly. Instead of fingers, it had steely talons. Pearl ran.

The stairwell spun around and around in an endless spiral, making Pearl dizzy and nauseous but there was no sign of the bottom. Her throat was dry and painful and she was starting to stagger from exhaustion and disorientation. Then she lost her balance and fell forwards, but instead of concrete steps she landed on a cold, wet surface with a sound like watermelon splitting. It was dark, though she could see a pool of something shiny around herself. She wondered if it was water, but somehow she knew it wasn't. And she could see dancing shadows reflected in its surface, the stick figure pirouetting gracefully over her, its claws dripping with blood.

It was good, Pearl reflected, but she was better. As if realising the same thing, the eyeless face turned towards her and split vertically to reveal a nightmarish armoury of metal fangs. Pearl tried to scream again as it lunged, but it seized her by the neck and plunged a clawed hand into her mouth and down her throat, reaching for her vocal cords...

**o.o.o.o.o**

The faint gagging noise immediately got Rose's attention, her head snapping up as she heard it. She had been sitting by Pearl's bedside - or at least as close as she could get with the medical equipment and monitors clustered around her - for the past hour. She was lucky to have been allowed into the room since she wasn't family, but she'd been Pearl's emergency contact for years, ever since the dancer's parents had moved back to Japan. Getting to her feet, Rose leaned over to take Pearl's hand - carefully avoiding the cannula - and squeezed her fingers gently.

"Pearl? Can you hear me honey?"

The dancer's eyelids fluttered as if in response, her fingers twitching spasmodically in Rose's grasp. Pearl made another choking noise, her arms jerking towards the oxygen tube that had been inserted into her throat but stopping halfway and dropping back to the bed as her eyes opened. She stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused and vague as she continued to make small sounds of distress that tore at Rose's heart.

"Shhhh sweetheart, it's okay, you're safe," Rose could feel her eyes stinging with the beginning of tears, but successfully managed to keep the tremble out of her voice. She moved her other hand to Pearl's cheek, stroking her pale face gently. The dancer flinched slightly at the contact, her unsteady gaze moving to Rose and gradually fixing on her. Blinking blearily as her eyes focused, Pearl made another painful-sounding noise that might have been an attempt to say Rose's name but was muffled by the oxygen tube.

"Don't try to talk, honey," Rose told her, finding it harder and harder to keep her voice calm and comforting through the lump in her own throat. "There's a tube in your throat to help you breathe, but it means you won't be able to speak right now. Can you squeeze my hand if you understand?" she added, giving Pearl's hand a gentle tug for emphasis. Rose's heart sank as the dancer's eyes closed, but then she felt Pearl's fingers close weakly around hers and release.

"Good, that's really good," The words were shaky as Rose's voice finally broke into a suppressed sob, tears glittering in her eyes. "Oh _ku'uipo_ , I was so worried about you." Pearl didn't respond - couldn't respond - but her eyes opened again to squint up at the older woman with obvious bewilderment. "You're in the hospital," Rose explained, raising one hand to knuckle her tears away and holding Pearl's hand with the other. "Do you remember anything about last night?"

Pearl frowned as she tried to recall what had happened. The endless stairwell and the stick figure had been a nightmare, hadn't it? Her mind was hazy, like her head was full of cotton wool, though she had a vague memory of falling. Had she been pushed? Did she fall down the stairs in her hurry to leave? No, Pearl definitely remembered leaving the theatre and closing the stage door behind herself. Then... then...

_"Pearl." The voice was deep and gruff as black arms wrapped around her, pulling her into the shadows as something slammed into her back and knocked her to the cold ground as warmth pulsed out of her and soaked into her clothes..._

The dancer physically flinched at the vague memory, making a choked sound of distress as she tried to pull away from an assailant that wasn't there. She felt a warm hand squeeze her own, but when she looked up she saw Rose, not the stagehand with the bleached hair. Of course, she wasn't in the alley any more, was she?

"You're in the hospital," Rose repeated - and Pearl wondered why she was crying - "Someone attacked you when you were leaving the theatre last night and you were stabbed. Amethyst found you - she's one of the stagehands, remember - and she called 911."

Yes, that did seem familiar now that Pearl thought about it. She vaguely remembered a cold, wet hand slapping her face and the stagehand's voice. Amethyst had made the faceless thing go away, hadn't she? Pearl tried to ask if the girl was okay, but gagged on the tube in her throat instead. For a moment it felt like she was being choked as she fought against it, but the dancer calmed as she felt Rose's hand - which was wet but also warm - against her cheek.

"No sweetheart, don't try to talk, you won't be able to," Rose's voice was thick with suppressed sobs. "I know it's hard, but you need the tube to help you breathe right now. The doctors'll take it out soon, I promise. I'll ask the nurse when she comes to check on you. Just nod or shake your head for now, do you think you can do that?"

Pearl made a soft, frustrated noise but managed to dip her head slightly in response. Her head was still fuzzy and she had a nagging feeling that something was very wrong, but she didn't know what it could be. A gentle squeeze of her hand brought Pearl's wandering attention back to Rose.

"Do you have any idea who attacked you?" the older woman asked. "Anything at all?" Although Rose had expected it, she still cursed silently as the dancer gave a small shake of her head. Pearl squinted up at her, blue eyes imploring as she tugged weakly at Rose's hand, wanting an answer to a question she couldn't ask.

"The police don't know who it was either," Rose said, hoping that was the reply Pearl wanted. "They're speaking to Amethyst right now to see..." She broke off mid-sentence as the dancer tugged at her hand again when she mentioned the stage-hand's name. Realisation immediately dawned on her. "Oh, you want to know if Amethyst's okay?" Pearl's response was a shaky nod. "She's in the hospital too," Rose explained. "She got some deep cuts but she's okay. She saved your life."

Pearl nodded again; she knew that the thing which had attacked her would have killed her if Amethyst hadn't arrived. _"Just die,"_ it had hissed to her, and she shuddered as she recalled its words. Although her memory was blurry and vague she remembered the hate and dark pleasure she'd heard in its voice. It would have watched her die and enjoyed it. Amethyst had fought it, she remembered that too. The stagehand could just have run away but she hadn't.

"I tried calling your parents but there was no answer," Rose told her. "It would have been about 3am there when I called, do you know if they're out of town or on vacation?"

There was a pause as Pearl closed her eyes, trying to recall what her mother had said when they'd last spoken a week ago. They were on vacation, she remembered that much, and they were going to miss opening night but she hadn't minded that, it meant they'd see a more polished performance. They couldn't just fly over because... because...

Rose's hand was squeezed again as Pearl's face screwed up in a grimace. Thinking that she was in pain, Rose leapt to her feet to go and reached for the call button but a weak tug at her wrist stopped her. Looking back at Pearl she saw that the dancer's eyes had opened again, looking up at her as Pearl shook her head slightly.

"I'm not leaving, I'm just calling for a nurse," Rose explained, but as she touched the button Pearl shook her head again, making a sound that was frustrated rather than agonised. "I thought you were in pain," Rose said, getting an emphatic head shake in response. "Oh.., is it about your parents?" she asked, sinking back into her chair as Pearl nodded. "Are they okay?"

Pearl nodded again, wanting to grit her teeth or scream in frustration, but she could do neither. There was a good reason why Rose couldn't get in touch with her parents; she just had to think of a way to communicate it.

"Are they away on vacation, is that why they're not home?" Rose asked, and the dancer nodded, then made another muffled sound, clearly trying to elaborate on that. "Do you have a contact number for their hotel?" The pained, frustrated noise that Pearl made in reply told Rose that getting in touch with them wasn't going to be simple. Surely Pearl would know where they were staying, unless… "They're on a cruise. That's it, right?"

Pearl nodded so hard in response that it made her feel nauseous, glad that Rose had guessed correctly. Her mother had told her the name of the ship they'd be travelling on, but Pearl couldn't remember it. And even if she could, she wasn't sure how Rose could contact them anyway, it would be hard to get a cellphone signal in the middle of the ocean.

"Mrs Kalani-Universe?" Rose looked around at the sound of her name and saw one of the doctors she'd spoken to earlier - Rose couldn't remember her name - standing in the doorway. "Can I have a word?"

"I'll be right back," she told Pearl as she stood up, getting a weak nod in response, then headed out into the corridor where the doctor was waiting with a nurse who immediately entered Pearl's room as Rose left it. The doctor was holding a manila folder marked with Pearl's name and her expression was grave, which was hardly reassuring. Rose also caught sight of her name tag, which read 'Dr. Maheswaran' and made a mental note of it.

"We're going to have to take her back into surgery," the doctor said without preamble. "From the x-rays it looks like part of the knife broke off inside her - we need to get that out."

"But you said she'd be too weak for more surgery until she'd had a few days to recover," Rose replied, her nails digging into her palms as her fists clenched.

"In ideal circumstances yes," Dr. Maheswaran explained, her tone suggesting that she couldn't care less about Rose's opinion in any case. "But we can't rely on the knife fragment staying where it is. It's in Ms Meyer's best interests if we remove it now."

Rose didn't have a response to that, her fists shaking slightly at her sides. "And what about Pearl's back?" she asked after a short pause. "Do you know how bad the damage to her spine was? If she won't be able to walk then…" Rose swallowed hard at the thought. "Then I have to tell her. I can't just keep it a secret."

"It's too early to be able to tell the full extent of the damage," the doctor replied, though her voice had softened slightly with sympathy. "From observation Ms Meyer does appear to have at least some sensation in her right leg, but none in her left, the knife penetrated the right side of her spinal cord so-"

"That can't be right, I saw her left leg moving," Rose interrupted, feeling a sudden surge of hope. She'd been sitting with Pearl for longer than any of the doctors or nurses after all, maybe they hadn't seen it. But one look at Dr. Maheswaran's face was enough to kill Rose's optimism.

"That would make sense," she explained, looking over the notes in the file she was holding. "Ms Meyer has sensation in her right leg but hasn't moved it. She has no sensation in the left but has been seen to move it. She will still be in spinal shock so we can't be sure yet, but everything points at Brown-Séquard syndrome. Movement on one side but no sensation, paralysis on the other while retaining some sensory response." Looking up from the file, Dr. Maheswaran started slightly at the look on Rose's face. "I'm sorry, that was probably too technical, wasn't it?"

"No, I understand," Rose said softly. "It's just… dancing is Pearl's life. And she won't be able to do that any more, will she?" The pink-haired woman looked at Dr. Maheswaran imploringly; she already knew what the answer would be but couldn't help hoping that she was wrong.

"I'm not going to lie to you," the doctor replied, holding Rose's gaze steadily. "With physiotherapy – and possibly further surgery – Ms Meyer may regain some independent mobility. But she won't be able to dance like she could before; the nerve damage is too extensive. I'm sorry. As it stands, she's very lucky to have kept her life so far. That's something to be thankful for."

Rose swallowed hard, feeling hot tears streak down her cheeks as if the action had triggered them. "I know," she said softly, the words croaked out through the lump in her throat. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Maheswaran." Scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve, Rose took a deep breath and stifled the sob that was threatening to burst from her chest. It wouldn't do for Pearl to see her this upset, not now. "When will you be taking Pearl back into surgery?"

"In the next fifteen minutes," Dr. Maheswaran said. "The nurse is preparing her for surgery; we're going to take her to the operating theatre just now. The procedure will take several hours; if you want to go home and get some sleep we'll call you as soon as it's over."

"I'll stay." Rose's response was immediate. "I need to go check on Amethyst anyway. Can I talk to Pearl before you move her?"

"Yes, but the nurse will have given Ms Meyer a sedative so she may not be responsive," the doctor informed her. "Most likely she won't remember much of the next few days; once the anaesthetic has worn off she'll be given morphine for the pain. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd better get ready for surgery."

Rose nodded in reply, but Dr. Maheswaran was already walking away. Taking another deep, steadying breath, she cursed softly as she realised she'd forgotten to ask about the breathing tube. Using her sleeve to wipe her eyes, Rose opened the door to Pearl's room and stepped back inside. The nurse who'd passed her in the corridor was checking the IV lines running into Pearl's arm and the dancer herself was gazing up at the ceiling with glazed eyes.

Going over to Pearl's side, Rose reached out to touch her hand. At first she thought there was no response, as the dancer's eyes remained fixed on the white tiles over the bed. Then her gaze slowly moved towards Rose, as if her reactions were delayed, her pupils huge black pools. Blinking slowly like a reptile, Pearl stared at the older woman with slow recognition.

"You have to go back into surgery honey," Rose explained, wondering how much of her words Pearl could understand. Holding the dancer's hand gently, Rose rubbed the ball of her thumb back and forth across her knuckles comfortingly. "I'll be here when you get out, okay?" Pearl didn't make any sign of response. She was still looking towards Rose, but the pink-haired woman had a strong suspicion that she couldn't see her.

"It's okay," the nurse said from the other side of the bed as she caught sight of Rose's expression. "It'll be the sedatives kicking in, she won't really be aware of what's going on right now. Probably won't remember any of it."

"Is she in pain?" Rose asked, watching worriedly as the dancer's head lolled to the side, eyes still open but unfocused. She wasn't sure whether this was an improvement on the distress Pearl had shown earlier or not, she was certainly calmer now but completely inert. "Will it hurt her when you move the bed?"

"No, right now she won't feel much of anything," the nurse replied. "Between the painkillers and the sedatives I doubt she'll even notice being moved."

Nodding silently, Rose crouched beside the bed, directly in Pearl's line of sight as she brushed strands of auburn hair away from the dancer's pale face. "It's going to be okay honey," Rose told her, gently stroking her cheek. Despite what she had learned from Dr. Maheswaran the pink-haired woman's voice was steady with heartfelt conviction. Pearl's vacant gaze seemed to fix on her for a moment, and Rose gave her an encouraging smile in response. "Hang in there sweetheart. It'll be okay."


	4. Chapter 4

"That's definitely all you can remember?"

"Ugh, I already told you like three times, that's all I know!" Amethyst glared at the female police officer who seemed to have spent the past couple of hours asking her the same questions over and over while her colleague - who had turned out to be an intern several years younger than Amethyst - took notes. He wasn't even a police intern; apparently he was some kind of trainee journalist doing some kind of work that Amethyst hadn't paid much attention to because she'd lost interest the moment the officer had mentioned journalism. If the officer was annoyed by the girl's tone then she didn't show it, but it was hard to read the expression behind the oversized mirror shades she was wearing. In winter. And inside. Maybe it was some kind of British eccentricity; Amethyst had certainly been surprised when the black woman had introduced herself and her companion in a smooth English accent.

The officer's name was Garnet Jones, she was a detective, and she was over six feet tall. The latter was definitely the most surprising and also the most intimidating; the woman seemed to loom over Amethyst's bed like a giant redwood and the girl reckoned she'd be just as immovable. Ronaldo Fryman on the other hand was barely taller than Amethyst herself, had an unruly mop of blonde curls in direct contrast to Garnet's strictly controlled bun and also wore glasses. In his case however, they were obviously prescription and had lenses as thick as the bottom of a soda bottle. And he was still writing for some reason, even though it had been minutes since Amethyst had last said something that she considered remotely useful.

"Show me where you hit the attacker again," Garnet said, paying no attention to Ronaldo's scribblings.

"Right here," Amethyst replied, demonstrating by tapping her fist to her jaw. "No, wait, it would have been the other side," she corrected herself quickly. "I punched with my right so I would have hit their left."

Garnet nodded silently, then took a few steps nearer to the bed. Closer up it was even more obvious just how tall she was and Amethyst flinched slightly as the officer extended a hand towards her. Holding it palm-outwards towards the girl, Garnet nodded towards her outstretched arm. "Think you can punch my hand as hard as you punched the attacker?" she asked, spreading her fingers wide.

"Uhhhhh... probably," Amethyst replied, frowning at the odd request. "I punch pretty hard though," she added, not without a touch of pride.

"Good," was the only response. There was a moment of awkward silence as Amethyst realised that the woman was entirely serious. And that Ronaldo had stopped writing and was now peeking over his notebook with rapt anticipation. Looking back at Garnet's impassive face then at her hand, Amethyst saw the woman's fingers flex in an impatient gesture that plainly said 'come on then'. Since there was nothing else for it, the stagehand rolled her shoulder a couple of times to loosen up - infinitely glad that the knife wound across her shoulder was on the left - and launched her best right hook into Garnet's palm.

Amethyst had been expecting some kind of reaction as her fist slammed solidly into the tall woman's hand, but she didn't so much as sway. It reminded the girl of the first time she'd punched a sandbag in gym class at school; Garnet simply absorbed the blow with no sign of impact besides the sound of Amethyst's fist striking her palm.

"Not bad," Garnet said with what Amethyst could swear was approval. "Whoever we're looking for is probably missing a tooth or two." She nodded towards Ronaldo who immediately returned his attention to his notebook and wrote that detail down.

"They'll have bruised ribs too," Amethyst put in helpfully. "I kicked them really hard when they were down and my work books are steel-toed. So that'll have left a mark. Just don't ask me to demonstrate right now," she added as Garnet's concealed gaze turned back towards her. "I don't think I'll be able to kick so hard with my side jacked up without the adrenaline."

"In that case we're done for now," Garnet replied. "Thanks for your time. If we need anything else we'll let you know." Reaching into her jacket pocket, Garnet pulled out a business card for the precinct and a pen, adding her cellphone number to the card below the office number. "If you think of anything or remember anything that might help with the investigation, please call," she said as she handed the card to Amethyst. "My cell number's there if I'm not in the office."

"Uhhh, sure," Amethyst looked at the proffered card with some uncertainty, but took it anyway. "I hope you catch that skinny fucker. And when you do, kick them for me, willya?"

"I'll do my best." Garnet's reply was disconcertingly sincere. "Hopefully I'll be back to speak with Ms Meyer when she's able to respond. I'll check on you at the same time too if that's okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." Although she wasn't enamoured by the idea of a cop checking up on her, Amethyst guessed that she didn't really have a choice. And if it helped to catch the skinny bastard who'd attacked Pearl then she'd happily put up with it. "Rose'll probably want to talk to ya," she continued as Garnet took a step back towards the door. "She knows Pearl way better than I do, and she's taking this really personally."

"Then I'll go find her. Thanks." With a nod of acknowledgement, Garnet turned and headed for the door with Ronaldo falling in behind her. Settling back against the pillows, Amethyst grabbed her soda from the bedside cabinet and turned the TV back on. Still The Brave and the Bold. Groaning, Amethyst wished she'd asked Garnet to change the channel before the officer had left.

**o.o.o.o.o**

Striding down the hospital corridor, Garnet found an empty bench that was a fair distance from any others while still having a clear view of Amethyst's room and sat down. From what the nurses had said, this Rose woman would be back to check on the girl soon. Garnet had seen her leaving earlier and knew she'd be easy to spot from a distance with that hair. After a moment of indecision, Ronaldo sat beside her, leaving a respectful distance between them. He didn't say anything as two months of being Garnet's tagalong had taught him to know when she was thinking, and to keep quiet while she was doing it. The latter was more impressive given how much he'd talk if given the chance.

"So," Garnet said abruptly, with an internal chuckle at the way the kid started when she spoke. "What do you think?" She knew she'd probably regret asking, but it was worth it for the way Ronaldo's face lit up at being asked for his opinion. Besides, he certainly knew how to think outside the box.

"Obsessed fan," the intern said immediately. "Fans can do some really creepy stuff, I know, I've been on the internet a long time so I've seen it all. RPF, RPS, photomanips, Rule 34 of photomanips..." His voice tailed off under Garnet's impassive stare. "Okay, so that's not relevant. But there's plenty of instances of obsessed fans committing assault and murder. Just look at the Beatles: John Lennon was murdered by one crazy fan, George Harrison was stabbed by another..."

"Classical ballet isn't really the same as the Beatles," Garnet commented. "But you have a point," she added as Ronaldo's face fell. "Apparently the victim is very well known in ballet circles, so presumably she'd have fans. It's worth investigating at any rate. Any other ideas?"

"Maybe someone wanted to sabotage the ballet," Ronaldo suggested. "Though they have understudies, don't they? Wait, maybe the understudy wanted her part! Or maybe there's a rival ballet company that wanted the victim to join them and she wouldn't so they stabbed her!"

"I don't think ballet works like that," the tall woman said doubtfully. "Though I guess there's not many leads, unless it was a botched mugging. But we won't find that out until we can talk to the victim. They might have stabbed her because she wouldn't give them her wallet. That's the simplest answer."

"I guess." Ronaldo seemed much less enthused by such a mundane theory. "But why would she let them take her phone and not her wallet?"

"Apparently her phone was pretty much worthless." Leaning back against the wall, Garnet stared up at the ceiling as if looking for clues in the polystyrene panels. "That was in the statement they got from the stage hand - Ms Ramirez - last night. She said it was weird that someone would take Ms Meyer's phone because it was ancient; one of those old Nokia phones that were really popular about twelve, thirteen years ago. No camera, no touchscreen. The only thing going for it was that you can change the casing."

"I had one of those back in middle school..." Ronaldo said helpfully, getting a noncommittal grunt in response. "I don't think you can even donate them any more, it's not worth anyone's time to steal one. Maybe there were secret messages or something on the phone and that's why the attacker wanted it!"

"Or they just wanted to stop her calling for help," Garnet stated, before Ronaldo could come up with some half-baked conspiracy theory about secret ballet societies. "You remember what I told you the other day? About Occam's Razor and simple explanations usually being the right ones?"

"Maybe Occam just didn't have any imagination," the intern muttered rebelliously, but Garnet was no longer paying any attention to him. Instead she sprang to her feet and walked away without another word. Ronaldo would have been insulted - even though he was used to Garnet's abrupt dismissals - but then he caught sight of the pink haired woman beyond her. Flipping his notebook to a new page, Ronaldo quickly scurried along in Garnet's wake.

**o.o.o.o.o**

Although she'd spent the last fifteen minutes sobbing in one of the hospital restrooms after leaving Pearl, there were no traces of tears on Rose's face beyond the slight redness about her eyes. She didn't want to upset Amethyst, even though Rose knew that if the girl asked about Pearl then she'd probably break down again. She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd said that dancing was Pearl's life. And if the thought that Pearl would never be able to dance again was this upsetting for her, Rose could only imagine how terrible it would be for the dancer herself. Then, just as Rose put her hand on the door handle for Amethyst's room, an unfamiliar voice called to her.

"Excuse me, ma'am." Looking around - then up - Rose was confronted by her reflection in Garnet's wraparound shades. "I'm Detective Jones. I'm investigating the attack on Pearl Meyer. Could I please speak to you for a few minutes?"

"Of course," Rose replied, glancing at Ronaldo as he caught up with them. He obviously wasn't a police officer, and was already writing in a notebook. "And this is...?"

"Ronaldo Fryman," Garnet supplied for him. "He's an intern from the Tribune newspaper. He's taking notes for his story but nothing will be published without your consent." From the tone of Garnet's voice, it was obvious to Ronaldo that he better not contradict her.

"Uhm... hi," he said awkwardly, glancing up from what he was writing. To his surprise, the pink-haired woman showed no objection to his presence - normally he was viewed with suspicion at the very least.

"If it helps catch whoever did this then I don't care what gets published," Rose stated emphatically. "I'll help however I can, what do you need to know?"

"Assuming this wasn't a mugging, do you know if Ms Meyer has any enemies?" Abandoning the preliminary small talk, Garnet moved straight on to the questioning. The Hawaiian woman seemed completely sincere about her desire to help, but Garnet was still studying her face intently as she replied.

"No," Rose shook her head as she responded. "Pearl's been a ballerina for as long as I've known her," and her voice caught slightly before she continued. "She's never been involved in any trouble that I'm aware of, no debts. And no drugs," Rose added as she sensed the unspoken question.

"How well do you know her?" Garnet asked, mentally noting Rose's distress. "Have you been friends for long?"

"I've known her since she was a child," Rose replied. "Her parents moved here when she was ten and enrolled her in the ballet school, she's been dancing since she was three years old." Again, Rose felt the sob threaten to break from her throat and forced it back down. "I was nineteen; she was like a little sister to me. She still is."

"What about her parents? Are they still alive?" Since there was no sign of them, Garnet felt that was a fair question.

"Yes, but they live in Japan now," Rose explained. "Pearl's father is American, he was in the military, but her mother is Japanese. They moved to Kagoshima when her father retired a few years ago, that's where her mother is from. Pearl stayed here because of her position in the ballet company; she's been the prima ballerina in their performances for four years now." Rose gritted her teeth; every time she mentioned ballet now she could feel the tears welling in her eyes. "I haven't been able to get in touch with them because they're on a cruise but I think they must be coming here soon, they always come to see one of the p-performances."

Rose closed her eyes tightly as her voice hiccupped and stuttered, forcing herself to continue as her voice rose in pitch. "But Pearl couldn't tell me when because of the breathing tube, she couldn't t-talk and she's been taken back to surgery so I can't... can't..." Suddenly the tears were flowing again, as if a dam had broken, and Rose cursed silently as she ground her sleeves into her eyes. "I'm sorry..."

"It's all right," Garnet said gently. "Maybe it would be better if you sat down." Rose nodded silently in response, and the taller woman led her over to the bench she'd been sitting on earlier. Ronaldo followed them but stood unobtrusively beside Garnet, his eyes on his notebook. The detective was gratified to see that he was learning; it had taken quite a while for her to hammer in the lesson that he could collect more information by talking less and listening more.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, Rose blew her nose on a tissue and composed herself. "Okay. I'm better now." The tremor in her voice belied her words, but she forged ahead regardless. "The surgeon just told me that Pearl won't be able to dance again after the injury, which is... hard to imagine. And that's just for me, when Pearl finds out herself..." Blowing out a long, shuddering sigh, Rose pushed that thought aside for now. "Anyway, what else do you need to know?"

"Could the attack have been aimed at her parents? Do you know if they have any enemies?" Garnet knew she was grasping at straws with that question. It was worth asking, especially now that she knew Pearl's father had been in the military, but she wasn't surprised when Rose shook her head.

"No, not that I know of," the pink-haired woman replied. "You'd need to ask them to be sure though, but I can't imagine that they'd have enemies like that. I can't think of anyone who'd want to hurt Pearl or her parents."

Seeing Ronaldo shift restlessly in her peripheral vision, Garnet immediately guessed what he was thinking. Behind the mirrored shades, her eyes rolled in irritated acquiescence. "Does Pearl have any fans that are a bit too devoted?" From Garnet's flat tone - as if she'd read the question from a prompt card - her opinion of the question was obvious. At least to Ronaldo anyway; if Rose considered the query odd then she didn't show it. Instead she appeared to think about it for several seconds before responding.

"There are people who regularly come to see Pearl's performances," Rose began hesitantly. "But I can't imagine that any of them would hurt her. The most any of them have ever done is ask for her autograph, but that's not unusual. Though I guess that there's a chance Pearl might not have told me if one of them was bothering her, but that's not like her. You could ask around the theatre staff and see if they noticed anything, the front of house staff might know if anyone's been hanging around the theatre on performance nights. But..." Rose's frowned as the realisation hit her. "Last night wasn't a performance night. The ballet hasn't even opened yet and only people who work at the theatre would know the rehearsal schedule. Though I guess if this was a fan then they could just have asked."

"Unless they'd been following her!" Ronaldo was unable to resist putting in what he thought was a helpful suggestion. He couldn't see Garnet's glare through her shades but he definitely felt it and immediately fell silent.

Rose's expression had frozen into a mask of horror as what the intern had said sank in. She knew how absolutely focused Pearl had been on the rehearsals, and she knew that for the last few weeks Pearl had spent more time at the theatre than she had at home. Would she even have noticed someone following her when her mind was entirely on her part in Giselle? "I just can't think of anyone who would do that..." she said eventually. "I mean it's possible, but I don't know anything that might help you there."

"I think that's all for now. You've been very helpful." As she'd done with Amethyst, Garnet handed Rose a business card with her office and cellphone number. "If you can think of anything else, or if you're worried that Ms Meyer could be in danger, please call. The hospital is going to let me know when she's awake and fit for an interview so hopefully we'll get more answers then. Thank you for your time."

Rose nodded in acknowledgement, getting to her feet as the officer stood. Even though the Hawaiian woman was tall herself, she barely reached Garnet's shoulder. "If you find out anything about the attack – if there was someone stalking Pearl – will you please let me know?" she asked anxiously. "If you can I mean."

"If it doesn't jeopardise the investigation then I will," Garnet assured her. "Take care."

As the detective headed off along the corridor Rose watched her for a few moments, chewing her lip anxiously at the thought that someone had been lying in wait for Pearl the entire time. Maybe there had been a fan that the dancer was having trouble with and she just hadn't told her because she didn't want her to worry. But Rose knew it would do no good to wonder about that now, only Pearl had the answers. It was just a question of how long it would be until she was in any condition to supply them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to say thank you all for the kudos and comments, they are very much appreciated. :)


End file.
